I was fifteen years old when I found a little girl crying beside a flooded creek in the middle of a freezing Oregon storm.<\/p>\n
She was six.<\/p>\n
Her shoes were pink.<\/p>\n
Her hands were blue from the cold.<\/p>\n
And the first thing she whispered when she saw me was:<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease don\u2019t let them take me again.\u201d<\/p>\n
My name is Mason Reed.<\/p>\n
At that point in my life, nobody was looking for me.<\/p>\n
Not really.<\/p>\n
My mother had died the year before after spending most of my childhood losing battles with addiction. After that, I entered foster care.<\/p>\n
The first placement lasted three months.<\/p>\n
The second lasted six weeks.<\/p>\n
The third belonged to a man named Earl Watkins.<\/p>\n
Earl smiled whenever social workers visited.<\/p>\n
He kept fresh cookies on the counter and family photographs on the wall.<\/p>\n
But after the county car disappeared down the driveway, he became someone else.<\/p>\n
So I ran.<\/p>\n
For seven months, I lived in the Cascade foothills outside a logging town called Pine Crossing.<\/p>\n
I slept beneath a shelter made from cedar limbs and blue plastic tarps.<\/p>\n
I stole crackers from gas stations when I was desperate.<\/p>\n
I drank creek water through an old camping filter I found in a dumpster.<\/p>\n
Most important, I learned one rule:<\/p>\n
Stay invisible.<\/p>\n
Invisible kids don\u2019t get sent back.<\/p>\n
That October night, rain hammered the forest so hard it sounded like gravel hitting metal.<\/p>\n
I was curled inside my shelter when I heard crying.<\/p>\n
At first I thought it was an injured animal.<\/p>\n
Then I heard a child say:<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Every survival instinct told me to stay where I was.<\/p>\n
Instead, I stepped into the storm.<\/p>\n
I followed the sound nearly half a mile.<\/p>\n
Lightning flashed over the trees.<\/p>\n
That was when I saw her.<\/p>\n
A little blonde girl huddled beneath a huge cedar, soaked through, her knees pulled against her chest.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey,\u201d I said softly.<\/p>\n
She screamed and tried to crawl backward.<\/p>\n
I immediately raised both hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not going to hurt you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t take me back.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI won\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name\u2019s Mason. What\u2019s yours?\u201d<\/p>\n
She hesitated.<\/p>\n
\u201cEllie.\u201d<\/p>\n
I took off my hoodie.<\/p>\n
It was the driest thing I owned.<\/p>\n
I wrapped it around her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
Her teeth were chattering so hard I could barely understand her.<\/p>\n
\u201cMen took me.\u201d<\/p>\n
My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat men?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey put me in a van.\u201d<\/p>\n
She started crying again.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe van got stuck. They were yelling. I opened the door and ran.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere\u2019s your family?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy daddy was at the picnic.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then I noticed the tiny black leather vest under my hoodie.<\/p>\n
There was a patch on the back.<\/p>\n
A silver mountain.<\/p>\n
A black motorcycle wheel.<\/p>\n
And the words:<\/p>\n
BLACK RIDGE RIDERS.<\/p>\n
I knew that name.<\/p>\n
Everybody in Pine Crossing did.<\/p>\n
The Black Ridge Riders were a motorcycle club with a clubhouse outside town.<\/p>\n
They organized toy drives every Christmas.<\/p>\n
They paid funeral costs for veterans.<\/p>\n
They also had a reputation that made people lower their voices when talking about them.<\/p>\n
Their president was Cole Mercer.<\/p>\n
Big man.<\/p>\n
Gray beard.<\/p>\n
Supposedly scared of nothing.<\/p>\n
And his daughter had disappeared that afternoon from a charity barbecue.<\/p>\n
I had heard sirens earlier.<\/p>\n
Had even seen search helicopters before the storm grounded them.<\/p>\n
I stared at Ellie.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re Cole Mercer\u2019s daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
Fear hit me from both directions.<\/p>\n
If the police found a homeless runaway hiding with a missing six-year-old, what would they think?<\/p>\n
If the bikers found me first, would they believe my story?<\/p>\n
Then a flashlight beam appeared through the trees.<\/p>\n
Voices followed.<\/p>\n
\u201cEllie!\u201d<\/p>\n
But the voice didn\u2019t sound worried.<\/p>\n
It sounded angry.<\/p>\n
Ellie grabbed my arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s them.\u201d<\/p>\n
I picked her up.<\/p>\n
And ran.<\/p>\n
I knew those woods better than anyone searching them.<\/p>\n
I knew where the ground turned to swamp.<\/p>\n
Where old logging trails disappeared.<\/p>\n
Where fallen trees created tunnels beneath their roots.<\/p>\n
For nearly an hour, we hid and moved.<\/p>\n
Three men searched behind us.<\/p>\n
Sometimes their lights passed so close I could see rain shining on their jackets.<\/p>\n
Ellie stopped talking.<\/p>\n
That worried me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou awake?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have to stay awake.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m cold.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
I carried her toward an abandoned forestry dispatch station I had explored weeks earlier.<\/p>\n
There was an emergency phone inside.<\/p>\n
Old yellow receiver.<\/p>\n
Hardwired line.<\/p>\n
I prayed it still worked.<\/p>\n
We reached the building after midnight.<\/p>\n
The roof leaked.<\/p>\n
Half the windows were broken.<\/p>\n
But it blocked the wind.<\/p>\n
I lifted the receiver.<\/p>\n
Dial tone.<\/p>\n
I nearly cried.<\/p>\n
Then I dialed 911.<\/p>\n
Nothing.<\/p>\n
The storm had knocked out the main line.<\/p>\n
I slammed the phone down.<\/p>\n
Ellie reached inside her little vest.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy daddy gave me this.\u201d<\/p>\n
She held out a metal tag on a chain.<\/p>\n
A phone number was engraved on the back.<\/p>\n
Under it:<\/p>\n
IF FOUND \u2014 CALL BLACK RIDGE.<\/p>\n
I stared at the number.<\/p>\n
Calling the police scared me.<\/p>\n
Calling a biker clubhouse scared me more.<\/p>\n
But Ellie\u2019s lips were turning pale.<\/p>\n
So I dialed.<\/p>\n
A deep voice answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have Ellie Mercer.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
Then:<\/p>\n
\u201cWho is this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name is Mason.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere is she?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI found her in the woods. The men who took her are following us.\u201d<\/p>\n
The voice changed completely.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOld forestry station near Black Creek Road.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cListen carefully, kid. Lock the door. Stay with her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot long.\u201d<\/p>\n
The line went dead.<\/p>\n
I looked at Ellie.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour dad knows.\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiled for the first time.<\/p>\n
Then the window beside me shattered.<\/p>\n
Glass sprayed across the wooden floor.<\/p>\n
A flashlight blasted through the opening.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, look what we found.\u201d<\/p>\n
Three men stood outside.<\/p>\n
Ellie screamed.<\/p>\n
The front door shook under a heavy kick.<\/p>\n
I grabbed an old fireplace poker from the wall and stepped in front of her.<\/p>\n
I was fifteen.<\/p>\n
Hungry.<\/p>\n
Exhausted.<\/p>\n
Barely 130 pounds.<\/p>\n
The man outside laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cMove away from the girl, kid.\u201d<\/p>\n
The door cracked.<\/p>\n
Another kick.<\/p>\n
A hinge tore loose.<\/p>\n
Then something strange happened.<\/p>\n
The floor began vibrating.<\/p>\n
At first I thought it was thunder.<\/p>\n
The men outside stopped.<\/p>\n
The vibration became a rumble.<\/p>\n
Then a roar.<\/p>\n
Not from the sky.<\/p>\n
From the road.<\/p>\n
I looked through the broken window.<\/p>\n
Headlights filled the forest.<\/p>\n
Dozens.<\/p>\n
Then hundreds.<\/p>\n
Motorcycles poured through the rain, their lights stretching down the mountain road farther than I could see.<\/p>\n
The three kidnappers went completely still.<\/p>\n
And the man standing nearest the door whispered the only words I had ever heard from an adult that sounded more frightened than I felt:<\/p>\n
\u201cOh God\u2026 her father found us.\u201d<\/p>\n
The motorcycles kept coming.<\/p>\n
The roar rolled through the trees until the old dispatch station seemed to shake on its foundation.<\/p>\n
The three men outside forgot about me.<\/p>\n
Forgot about Ellie.<\/p>\n
They looked toward the road.<\/p>\n
One tried running into the forest.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t get far.<\/p>\n
Not because bikers attacked him.<\/p>\n
Because county deputies were arriving from the opposite direction.<\/p>\n
Red and blue lights flashed through the trees.<\/p>\n
That surprised me.<\/p>\n
Later I learned Cole Mercer had called the sheriff the moment his club received my phone call.<\/p>\n
He wanted his daughter back.<\/p>\n
But he wanted witnesses too.<\/p>\n
Within minutes, the clearing was surrounded by motorcycles, sheriff\u2019s cruisers and search-and-rescue trucks.<\/p>\n
The front door slowly opened.<\/p>\n
A huge man stepped inside.<\/p>\n
Gray beard.<\/p>\n
Soaked leather jacket.<\/p>\n
Hands trembling.<\/p>\n
Cole Mercer.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t look at the kidnappers.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t look at me.<\/p>\n
He saw Ellie.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy!\u201d<\/p>\n
She ran.<\/p>\n
Cole dropped to his knees.<\/p>\n
She hit him so hard they nearly fell backward.<\/p>\n
He wrapped both arms around her.<\/p>\n
For a long time, he didn\u2019t say anything.<\/p>\n
He just held her.<\/p>\n
The man I had heard people describe as dangerous cried into his daughter\u2019s wet hair like he didn\u2019t care who saw.<\/p>\n
Then Ellie pointed at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe saved me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Every person in the room looked my way.<\/p>\n
I suddenly remembered what I was.<\/p>\n
Runaway.<\/p>\n
Foster kid.<\/p>\n
Dirty clothes.<\/p>\n
No shoes worth calling shoes.<\/p>\n
I dropped the fireplace poker.<\/p>\n
One of the kidnappers, a man named Travis Kane, immediately pointed at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was part of it!\u201d<\/p>\n
My stomach dropped.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe called us! He wanted money!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s a lie,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
But my voice came out weak.<\/p>\n
Travis kept talking.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe had her when we found him!\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at Cole.<\/p>\n
His expression was impossible to read.<\/p>\n
Then Ellie stepped away from her father.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Everybody became quiet.<\/p>\n
She pointed at Travis.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe took me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then she grabbed my hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cMason gave me his shirt. He carried me. He hid me when they came close.\u201d<\/p>\n
Cole looked down at my hoodie wrapped around her.<\/p>\n
Then at me.<\/p>\n
Something in his face changed.<\/p>\n
He walked toward Travis.<\/p>\n
For one second, I thought I was about to see something terrible.<\/p>\n
Instead, Cole stopped several feet away.<\/p>\n
Then turned toward Sheriff Daniel Ruiz.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou heard my daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n
The sheriff nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI did.\u201d<\/p>\n
Cole pointed toward the three men.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen take them.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was it.<\/p>\n
No revenge.<\/p>\n
No beating.<\/p>\n
Just handcuffs.<\/p>\n
Evidence.<\/p>\n
Witnesses.<\/p>\n
Later police found the van stuck on an abandoned logging road.<\/p>\n
Inside were zip ties, blankets, food wrappers and items linking the men to the kidnapping.<\/p>\n
Travis had once been connected loosely to the Black Ridge Riders but had been expelled after stealing money.<\/p>\n
He wanted revenge against Cole.<\/p>\n
Ellie had been the easiest way to hurt him.<\/p>\n
I thought that was the end of my part in the story.<\/p>\n
I was wrong.<\/p>\n
A detective walked toward me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMason Reed?\u201d<\/p>\n
Hearing my full name scared me more than the kidnappers had.<\/p>\n
I backed away.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you know me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re listed as a runaway.\u201d<\/p>\n
My entire body went cold.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMason\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not going back.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou need medical attention.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
I started looking for an escape route.<\/p>\n
Cole noticed.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n
The detective answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s in state custody.\u201d<\/p>\n
Cole looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou ran from foster care?\u201d<\/p>\n
I said nothing.<\/p>\n
Ellie answered for me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe lives in the woods.\u201d<\/p>\n
Cole\u2019s face tightened.<\/p>\n
A paramedic wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t want it.<\/p>\n
It felt too much like being captured.<\/p>\n
Sheriff Ruiz crouched so we were eye level.<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me why you ran.\u201d<\/p>\n
I almost lied.<\/p>\n
Then I looked at Ellie.<\/p>\n
She had trusted me when she had every reason not to trust anybody.<\/p>\n
So I told the truth.<\/p>\n
Earl Watkins.<\/p>\n
The locked rooms.<\/p>\n
The threats.<\/p>\n
The times social workers came and I was too frightened to speak.<\/p>\n
The sheriff didn\u2019t interrupt.<\/p>\n
Neither did Cole.<\/p>\n
When I finished, Cole asked:<\/p>\n
\u201cAnybody investigate that house?\u201d<\/p>\n
The detective looked uncomfortable.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere were prior complaints.\u201d<\/p>\n
That sentence broke something inside me.<\/p>\n
\u201cPrior complaints?\u201d<\/p>\n
Nobody answered.<\/p>\n
I started laughing.<\/p>\n
Not because anything was funny.<\/p>\n
Because I had spent seven months thinking I was crazy.<\/p>\n
Thinking nobody would believe me.<\/p>\n
And someone had complained before I ever arrived.<\/p>\n
Cole turned to Sheriff Ruiz.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe does not go back there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe won\u2019t,\u201d Ruiz said.<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou promise?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was the first promise from an adult I believed in a long time.<\/p>\n
The investigation into my foster placement began the next day.<\/p>\n
Two former foster kids came forward.<\/p>\n
Then another.<\/p>\n
Earl\u2019s license was suspended while the state reviewed the home.<\/p>\n
I was placed temporarily with an emergency foster family.<\/p>\n
Not Cole.<\/p>\n
That mattered.<\/p>\n
The real world has rules.<\/p>\n
You don\u2019t save a biker\u2019s daughter on Friday and magically become his son on Saturday.<\/p>\n
But Cole showed up.<\/p>\n
Every week.<\/p>\n
Sometimes with Ellie.<\/p>\n
Sometimes alone.<\/p>\n
He brought food the first time.<\/p>\n
I expected money.<\/p>\n
Instead he brought a backpack.<\/p>\n
Inside were socks.<\/p>\n
A winter coat.<\/p>\n
A flashlight.<\/p>\n
Three books.<\/p>\n
And a cheap prepaid phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you can call somebody next time before living seven months in a forest.\u201d<\/p>\n
I almost smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou always this bossy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ellie answered from behind him:<\/p>\n
\u201cVery.\u201d<\/p>\n
Months passed.<\/p>\n
The kidnapping case moved toward trial.<\/p>\n
I testified.<\/p>\n
So did Ellie.<\/p>\n
The three men eventually accepted plea agreements carrying long prison sentences.<\/p>\n
My old foster placement was permanently closed.<\/p>\n
The state opened reviews into several earlier complaints that had been poorly handled.<\/p>\n
None of that fixed my childhood.<\/p>\n
But it proved I hadn\u2019t imagined it.<\/p>\n
That mattered more than people understand.<\/p>\n
Cole and I got to know each other slowly.<\/p>\n
He owned a motorcycle repair shop.<\/p>\n
The Black Ridge Riders helped run it.<\/p>\n
I started sweeping floors after school.<\/p>\n
Then changing oil.<\/p>\n
Then rebuilding carburetors.<\/p>\n
Machines made sense to me.<\/p>\n
Broken parts didn\u2019t lie.<\/p>\n
They showed you exactly where they had failed.<\/p>\n
A year later, my foster family decided to move out of state.<\/p>\n
I panicked.<\/p>\n
I had finally stopped sleeping with my shoes beside the bed.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t start again.<\/p>\n
My caseworker asked where I wanted to go.<\/p>\n
For the first time in my life, somebody actually asked.<\/p>\n
I said:<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to stay in Pine Crossing.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnyone here you trust?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked through the office window.<\/p>\n
Cole sat outside with Ellie.<\/p>\n
She was kicking her feet against the chair.<\/p>\n
He was pretending not to be nervous.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
That began another mountain of paperwork.<\/p>\n
Background checks.<\/p>\n
Home studies.<\/p>\n
Court hearings.<\/p>\n
Training.<\/p>\n
Cole complained constantly.<\/p>\n
He attended every single meeting.<\/p>\n
Six months later, I moved into the spare bedroom above the garage at his house.<\/p>\n
Not adopted.<\/p>\n
Not yet.<\/p>\n
But safe.<\/p>\n
The first night, I couldn\u2019t sleep.<\/p>\n
My door didn\u2019t have a lock from the outside.<\/p>\n
That sounds like a small thing.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
I lay awake staring at it.<\/p>\n
Around midnight, Cole knocked.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
He started to leave.<\/p>\n
\u201cCole?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stood there awkwardly.<\/p>\n
Then said:<\/p>\n
\u201cGet some sleep, kid.\u201d<\/p>\n
Two years later, the court finalized my adoption.<\/p>\n
I was seventeen.<\/p>\n
The judge asked whether I understood what adoption meant legally.<\/p>\n
I said yes.<\/p>\n
But what it meant emotionally was harder to explain.<\/p>\n
It meant my backpack could stay unpacked.<\/p>\n
It meant nobody measured my worth by whether a placement worked out.<\/p>\n
It meant when Cole said \u201chome,\u201d he meant a place that still belonged to me after an argument.<\/p>\n
Ellie was eight by then.<\/p>\n
She introduced me to everyone as her brother.<\/p>\n
Nobody corrected her.<\/p>\n
Neither did I.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m twenty-nine now.<\/p>\n
I still live in Oregon.<\/p>\n
I run the service department at Cole\u2019s shop.<\/p>\n
Ellie is in college studying social work.<\/p>\n
She says she wants to work with foster kids.<\/p>\n
I told her that sounds exhausting.<\/p>\n
She said:<\/p>\n
\u201cYou carried me through a freezing forest. You don\u2019t get to complain about exhausting.\u201d<\/p>\n
Fair.<\/p>\n
Cole has slowed down.<\/p>\n
Gray beard almost white now.<\/p>\n
Still rides.<\/p>\n
Still refuses to admit his knees hurt.<\/p>\n
Every October, the Black Ridge Riders hold the same charity barbecue where Ellie disappeared.<\/p>\n
But now half the money goes to runaway and foster youth programs.<\/p>\n
We keep emergency backpacks there.<\/p>\n
Coats.<\/p>\n
Phones.<\/p>\n
Bus cards.<\/p>\n
Food.<\/p>\n
There is one rule printed on the volunteer sheet:<\/p>\n
BELIEVE THE KID FIRST. INVESTIGATE SECOND.<\/p>\n
Cole wrote it.<\/p>\n
The funny thing is, people still tell the story wrong.<\/p>\n
They say hundreds of bikers rode into a storm and rescued a little girl.<\/p>\n
That happened.<\/p>\n
But it isn\u2019t the whole story.<\/p>\n
A frightened little girl trusted a homeless boy.<\/p>\n
That boy trusted a phone number.<\/p>\n
A feared biker trusted the police enough not to take revenge.<\/p>\n
A sheriff trusted a runaway enough to listen.<\/p>\n
And eventually, a kid who had spent years believing family meant whoever the state assigned to him learned something different.<\/p>\n
Family isn\u2019t always blood.<\/p>\n
It isn\u2019t paperwork either.<\/p>\n
Sometimes family begins in the worst night of your life.<\/p>\n
Someone looks at you cold, hungry and terrified\u2026<\/p>\n
and instead of asking what is wrong with you,<\/p>\n
they ask what happened to you.<\/p>\n
Then they stay long enough to hear the answer.<\/p>\n
I entered that forest believing invisible was the safest thing a person could be.<\/p>\n
I came out surrounded by hundreds of headlights.<\/p>\n
For the first time in my life, people were looking for me too.<\/p>\n
And I wasn\u2019t afraid to be found.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I was fifteen years old when I found a little girl crying beside a flooded creek in the middle of a freezing Oregon storm. She was six. Her shoes were pink. Her hands were blue from the cold. And the first thing she whispered when she saw me was: \u201cPlease don\u2019t let them take me […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4346,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"fifu_image_url":"","fifu_image_alt":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4345","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news"],"views":28,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4345","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4345"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4345\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4349,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4345\/revisions\/4349"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4346"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4345"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4345"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4345"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}